OH dear what can the matter be,
The shoe I've received is enough for to shatter
me,Neither Queen, Lords, Commons, or people willflatter me,Although I was sent by the Pope.I thought all the nation that I should surprise themOf me and my master they've been telling l es thenConsecrated I was in Rome—Archbishop Wiseman
By his holiness, Pius, the Pope.About me, Mr. Wiseman, they've made a bother,From one end of England right bang to the otherNow I must return to my father and mother,Since England has conquered the Pope.

There is little Jack Russell that ought to know
better,Sent down to a bishop a thundering long letter,Saying, the Queen in a line, don't they wish theymay get her,
To welcome Old Pius, the Pope.He called me a buff lo, bull, and a monkey,And then with a soldier, called Old Arthur ConkeyDeclared they would buy me a ninepenny donkey,
And send me to Rome to the Pope.

One night in a chapel I joyful did sing, sir,
And I thought for a bishop the bells ought to ring,
sir,
So I bolted away to the castle at Windsor,Oh ! England has frightened the Pope.Victoria in a rage, in her drawing room did stand,And shouted,how dare you come here Mr. WisemanThen Albert laid hold of a great kitchen fryingpanSwearing he would wollop the Pope.

Since I've been in England I've lost all my riches,I've spouted my petticoat, waistcoat, and breechesAnd if I don't go back I'll be rolled in the ditches
Oh ! pray for me, Pius, the Pope.I confess England's Queen is a nice little creature,But go where I will, I'm afraid for to meet he
She don't care a farthing for me, nor St. Peter,And curses old Pi s, the Pope.

I thought when I came all the folks would be
lightened,That welcom'd I'd he, and all faces would brightenBut shey one and all say, they will never befrightened
By cardinals, devils, or popes.
The usage I've had sirs, is really amazing,I'm like an old bull on the common grazing,If I had my will, I would set 'em all blazing,
So would my master, the Pope.

I thought with the nobles I should have been
mingling,Dancing and whistling, fighting and singing,Oh ! sad was the day I come over to England,
As servant to Pius, the Pope.The protestants say they'll put up with no flummeryWorshiping broomsticks, or any such mummery,The monks and the friars they'll look in a nunnery
And horsewhip Old Pius, the Pope.

I thought Old Britannia sleeping I'd caught her,I'm a poor stranger, without wife or daughter,In a dung barge they'll send me right over the water
Right home to Old Pius, the Pope.To England I'll never more come in my life, sir,To make such a hubbub, wrangling, & strife, sir,But when I get home I will marry a wife, sir,
So will my master, the Pope.

Oh ! dear ! pig's head and flummery,England has swore against Popery,I'm Cardinal Wiseman, shut up in a nunneryConfined as well as the Pope.

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Elegies & laments

English ballads

Description

Collection of 2,300 broadside ballads, mostly printed in England in the 19th century. Topics range from courtship, crime, disasters and emigration to fashion, theatre, politics, laments sports and old age. Includes ballads on Scotland and Ireland. Part of the Crawford Collections on deposit from the Balcarres Heritage Trust.

Attribution and copyright:

Reproduced with permission from materials on loan to the National Library of Scotland from the Balcarres Heritage Trust.

More information

Form / genre:

Miscellaneous > Ephemera > Broadsides

Dates / events:

1800-1900 [Date printed]

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